


Shoes (A Time to Reap, A Time to Sow Snippet)

by flecksofpoppy



Series: A Time to Reap, A Time to Sow [2]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Backstory, Gen, Grell trolls Will, Grelliam, Headcanon, Reapers, Young!Grell, dem shoes, in my headcanon Grell is tall but also dainty, young!Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 23:38:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1063033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flecksofpoppy/pseuds/flecksofpoppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will would like everyone to know that his feet are of absolutely average size.</p><p>(Snippet from my Grelliamverse, "A Time to Reap, A Time to Sow.")</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shoes (A Time to Reap, A Time to Sow Snippet)

**Author's Note:**

> For an explanation of this universe, see series description.

_(ca. 1805-1815)_

Grell has taken to filing his nails in Will's office, and Will has given up on trying to kick him out. However, he does at least have the common decency (Will threatened to reap him with a metal emery board otherwise) to drape himself horizontally over a chair against the wall, instead of Will's desk, his legs hanging over the armrest as he studies his nails critically.

"Really, Will," he says, "do you ever speak to anyone besides yourself and that plant?"

Will ignores Grell completely, busily writing up a summary of the prior day's reaps in painfully neat, cursive letters. He finishes the line and finally looks up.

"Grell, has it ever occurred to you to spend your lunch hour at your own desk?" Will asks, and looks down at his work again.

"But my desk is so dull," Grell says, sighing deeply, "regardless of the dozen red roses on top of it."

When Will doesn't take the bait, Grell blows the hair out of his face and adjusts himself primly.

"Wouldn't you like to know where they came from?" he asks, examining the tips of his nails.

"Not particularly, Sutcliff," Will says, bending forward and adjusting his glasses to look more closely at some poor reaper's unclear notes. He scowls – the sign of terrible penmanship. "I would guess one of your many admirers."

"Oh, Will!" Grell exclaims, clapping his hands together and sitting up slightly. "I never know you noticed I have admirers!"

"Everyone notices," Will replies bluntly, taking out his red pen and making ominous circles around a few words (this means the report is unacceptable and that the reaper assigned to the job must re-complete the form). He slides the cap back on neatly and sets it aside, perfectly lined up with his sharpened pencil. "It's quite plain that many are enamored with you. I am not."

"Will, you're so terribly mean," Grell pouts.

"Where _did_ you acquire those... shoes?" Will asks suddenly, his eyes fixed on the red high-heeled boots Grell is wearing.

"Oh, the most lovely woman. I arrived to reap her - a very peaceful death, mind you, from old age - and she offered me her entire wardrobe. Quite generous."

Will doesn't know if Grell is lying to him, but assuming he's being truthful, Will would rather leave it at that and not fill out even more paperwork about ungainly acquisitions from reaps.

Surprisingly, a small voice also pipes up in Will's head that Grell has never lied to him before. At least that's one point in Grell's favor against the thousands he racks up every day where Will's concerned.

Nevertheless, Will finds himself curious (he considers this his absolute worst quality), and Grell looks surprised as Will continues to stare at his shoes.

"Would you like to try them on?" Grell asks, a devious smile in his voice.

"Of course not, Sutcliff," Will says, coughing a bit, "those are ladies shoes."

Will can see Grell searching his face for more, but Will means nothing more than what he said. 

"It's no wonder you only get a quarter of your reaps completed," Will finally says, "wearing those things."

Grell goes back to filing his nails. "Well, darling," he says, "if you really must know, it's not the shoes. It's that I simply refuse to exert myself to such an extent as to sweat. It's a positively _revolting_ sensation, and derides one's self esteem as well as appearance." He finishes with a self-righteous little huff and turns up his nose.

"Sutcliff, must you waste my time with these anecdotes while I'm trying to work?" Will says, frowning as he opens a book to tick off the completed assignments - proper forms turned in with legible handwriting - and which ones are pending.

"Your feet are much bigger than mine, anyway," Grell says lightly, not looking up at Will again.

Will actually stops writing to stare at Grell now.

"What are you talking about?"

"I said," Grell says, putting the nail file down and swinging into a sitting position, "your feet are quite large, Will. It's a wonder you manage to get yourself around at all. I do know the saying about men with big feet," Grell gives him a positively indecent wink, "however, I remember yours to be frightfully large."

"My feet are not... frightful," Will says, centering his full attention on Grell now. "They're of absolutely average size."

"Well," Grell sniffs, primping his hair and playing with the ridiculous candy-striped ribbon tie he's wearing today, "you certainly wouldn't fit into _my_ shoes."

Will tells himself he's not going to argue with Grell over whether he could fit into the other’s shoes.

High heeled, ladies shoes.

No, he is not.

"My feet are not irregular," he says through gritted teeth, and the laughter lurking in Grell's voice perturbs him even more. "And... we are probably of a similar size."

Now Grell does laugh. "Oh, William," he says in a provocative voice, "I've riled you with fiery passion, built up from long hours of hidden lust."

Grell is standing now, arms clutched passionately around himself, rubbing his hands up and down them with great gusto.

"I've broken through your icy exterior to see the geyser of burning love underneath. Oh my, how positively scandalous!"

Will faces Grell with a flat, unreadable stare. After a moment of this, Grell sits back down primly, crosses his legs, and smirks at Will.

"Do hand me the polish, darling," he says, and then leans back with his legs over the chair's armrest again.

"Fine,” Will grits out.

Even Grell raises an eyebrow at that. "Pardon?"

"I'm curious about your shoes."

They just stare at each other for a moment; when Will doesn't falter, Grell raises an eyebrow. Finally, he breaks the stare, and bends to slowly unlace one of the extravagant boots.

Will unlaces one of his neatly shined black shoes and pushes it off, waiting expectantly.

Grell stands up, still looking incredulous, and hands over the shoe. When Will actually accepts it, Grell can do nothing more than simply sit back down and watch Will intently, unspeaking for once.

Will bends down behind his desk, nothing visible due to the wooden paneling that goes all the way across the front, and struggles a bit.

"You have to loosen the laces a bit more," Grell says helpfully. His advice is met with a dark stare.

However, apparently Will follows it, because when he sits up, he looks positively baffled.

"How in the world do you work like this, Sutcliff?" he asks, then adds, "Or rather... walk at all?"

Grell doesn't seem to be listening, though, his eyes fixed on the point behind the desk where Will’s foot is, and he takes a sharp breath.

"Let me see," Grell says, voice a bit strained.

Will rolls his eyes, but nevertheless, hobbles out from behind his desk. He's managed to fit his foot into Grell's shoe and even lace it up, though it obviously doesn't fit.

"You see," Will says matter of factly, "my feet are not outrageously large. Now I do beg you cease that nonsense and--"

Grell leans forward to abruptly to yank up Will's trouser leg and stare before the exasperated rebuke is finished.

Will looks aghast for a moment as he reels back. "Do tell me that you're not..." his face colors slightly, but he keeps going, " _aroused_ by this, Sutcliff."

Grell doesn't even try to hide his obvious reaction; just looks away and holds his hand out. "May I have my shoe back, please. I'm quite afraid it will be ruined by your massive feet."

Will unlaces the shoe and awkwardly pulls it off his foot (which, to his credit, is not abnormally large, but certainly larger than Grell's), and hands the shoe back to Grell.

Grell is immediately back to normal, though he's a bit flushed. He points his toes (Will notices that his foot _is_ rather petite) and says, "William, darling, would you care to assist me?"

"No," Will replies staunchly, and goes to sit back down at his desk. Unexpectedly, Grell stands and follows him, abandoning his own shoe.

"Let me try yours on," he says.

Will raises an eyebrow. "Absolutely not, Sutcliff."

Grell gives him a rather charming half-smile. "But I'm only curious, as were you."

Will can't fault him on that logic, so he pushes his shoe toward Grell.

It's two sizes too big, and Grell takes two steps before turning to stare at Will incredulously. "How do you walk in these, William?" The look on his face is genuinely baffled.

"They're quite practical. You should try the concept sometime."

"No thank you, my dear," Grell says, shedding Will's shoe with an expression of supreme distaste and returns to the chair to pull his boot back on.

"Regulation clothing is designed for maximum efficiency," Will states authoritatively, slipping his own shoe back on.

Unexpectedly, the door flies open and a rather frazzled looking junior stumbles in.

He stops abruptly and looks at both of them; Will freezes just as he's lacing up his shoe, and Grell, who is still pulling his boot on, just gives the poor boy a lecherous grin.

Then the younger recruit’s expression turns hopeful. "Does this mean we get to choose our shoes too once we make senior?!"

"Out," Will barks, pointing his finger. "Return in five minutes, and under no circumstances ever stumble into my office unannounced again."

The junior turns absolutely white and trips backward out of Will's office, the door closing behind him.

"Do be nice," Grell reprimands. "At least that one has taste."

" _That_ one has a smart attitude and terrible penmanship," Will retorts, frowning. He sits back down in his chair to continue with his work.

"Oh, Will, I know you can barely even read my writing," Grell says, standing.

"As deplorable as your conduct is, Grell," Will says, not looking up, "your handwriting is as dainty as that ridiculous footwear. It is possibly your only redeeming quality."

When there's no snarky response, he looks up.

Grell is looking at him with something that resembles... fondness.

"Why are you looking at me like that? I didn't send you a dozen roses."

"Will," Grell says simply, a small smile on his face, "you are utterly delectable."

Without further explanation, he turns and walks out the door.

Will watches him go for a moment, a surprised look on his face, before returning to his work.

That evening when he goes home, he studies himself in the mirror - black suit, neat tie, shined black shoes.

He takes off his shoes and argues with himself for a good five minutes before giving into further curiosity.

He positions himself in front of the mirror, rises to the balls of his feet, and walks a few steps, mimicking the action of wearing heeled boots, before stumbling and almost falling forward.

"No wonder you're so bloody mad, Sutcliff," he mumbles to himself. Although, he has to admit, perhaps he's going mad, too.

Unsurprisingly, he also blames this on Grell.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Origami Hearts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3471986) by [cielsdemon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cielsdemon/pseuds/cielsdemon)




End file.
